


His Talon

by Romiress



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths
Genre: Canon is a Blender, Dehumanization, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Kidnapping, M/M, Slade Wilson is the President, Stalking, Trans Slade Wilson, Unhealthy Relationships, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 12:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Inspired directly bythis gorgeous piece of art.Owlman gives his Talon one final task to prove his dedication to the Crime Syndicate. He fails.Based most heavily on the Crisis on Two Earth's timeline, but with heavy hints of Earth 3 and Earth-3.





	His Talon

Owlman says that it's a mission, but Talon knows what it really is: penance. He's never said it, but it's clear enough that the mission is his way of proving to the rest of the Syndicate that his Talon is still loyal. That his tryst with the Jokester's daughter was just a momentary lapse. That he can still be counted on when needed.

Owlman knows where his loyalties lie because when Talon came crawling back, he made Talon prove it to him over and over again. He proved it with his words and his actions and his body, and that's enough for Thomas.

It's not enough for the rest. Superwoman still looks at him with scorn any time they're in the same room. Ultraman won't tolerate his presence at all. They haven't forgiven him for trying to start something new with Duella, even months later. He's not sure they ever will.

His only chance is this mission. To _ prove _his loyalty, to do what they cannot. None of them can keep a low profile the way he can. None of them can maintain surveillance for a long period of time.

It means he has to give up the life he had outside of Thomas. He cannot have a job or a degree or a life while completing the mission, but it's a sacrifice he has to make. There's no other way. He won't get another chance to prove himself.

He says _ yes _ the way Thomas knew he would, and then he gets to work.

There's a thin folder of information on the current president and very little else. Most of what people know is public information. What the syndicate wants is information that _ isn't _ public. They want the details, the dirt. The want to know everything about him, and it's now Talon's job to enact their will.

He gets an apartment in the capital and sets about arranging surveillance. He can't trust anyone but himself with the job, but it's remarkably easy for him to get close to the action. The president is security conscious, but he's not _ paranoid. _ Not the way he should be, with the Syndicate around and all. He still makes public appearances. He drives a car that doesn't even seem to have bulletproof glass. He goes to restaurants and eats food without someone tasting it for him.

He's either stupid or brave, or maybe a bit of both.

He establishes a routine that mirrors the president's. He collects evidence. He immerses himself in the mission because he knows it's the only life he's allowed to have until Owlman decides that his Talon's work is good enough. He pins photos to the wall and gathers every bit of information he can find.

He's been there a month when Owlman visits, stepping in through the balcony door with no notice. He's told immediately that he's a disappointment: it shouldn't have taken more than a few days to put together what's taken him a month to collect.

Thomas makes him hurt. Thomas makes him remember that this is the _ only _ way he's allowed back into the Crime Society's good graces. He reminds him that his actions reflect back upon Thomas. That his failures make Thomas look lacking.

Talon promises he'll do better next time.

He can't hang back and wait for something to fall into his lap, so he becomes more direct. The president has a daughter about his age, and it's easy to slip out of his suit and pretend to be a normal person. He memorizes her schedule, finding out where she'll be and when. He feigns living the life he had before Duela, as if he never stopped living it, and finds an excuse to bump into her in a coffee shop, carrying a book he knows she likes so he has a reason to strike up a conversation.

They talk for two hours and when she realizes she has to go, she gives him her number and says they should meet up again sometime.

They become friends after that. They hang out. Every bit of time he spends with her is time _ not _ spent watching her father, but two weeks in it pays off. He meets her father in person when she invites him to a get together. For the first time, he meets _ Slade Wilson, _ the man who decides his fate.

Thomas has never said it, but he knows what will happen if he fails. It gives him motivation he doesn't think he really needs. He tells himself he'd be this dedicated even _ without _ the extra motivation, but he wonders at the same time if he's lying to himself.

He tells them about wanting to go to college. Spins a story about being interested in politics. He makes photography is hobby, and Rose seems excited when he takes pictures of them. Slade—far too high ranked and busy to spend his time talking politics with a kid—indulges him anyway.

When he returns home each night, he develops the photos and carefully cuts Rose out of them before adding them to the wall.

The wall helps keep him on task. The wall reminds him of who his target is.

Every night when he's done he changes into his suit and goes out into the city to continue his surveillance. He learns how to pass through security. He finds out what the patrol routes are. He learns to move around the grounds without being spotted.

Most important of all, he learns where Slade sleeps, and where he can sit without being seen. There's a tree he can perch in and still have a good view, and he spends most of his nights there, watching the man below him sleep.

At first it's desperation. It's a _ job. _ But as every successive day passes it becomes less so.

There's no real information to be gained from watching Slade sleep, but he goes anyway. He goes to see Slade. He goes because he _ needs _ to know what Slade is doing for reasons that have nothing to do with the Syndicate and everything to do with him. It's the way Slade talks to him. The way he looks at him. He _ sees _ him in a way that makes Talons' stomach flip.

He lets himself imagine what life might have been like if different things had happened. If he hadn't run away with Duela. If he'd met Slade first.

Sometimes he even lets himself think even before that: what would his life have been if _ Slade _ had found him rather than Thomas? If it had been Slade at the circus who'd taken him in.

They're at a barbecue when Rose asks him out, and Talon turns her down before he can even think it through. He regrets it immediately, knowing that if Thomas hears, that will be the end of his mission. He's turned down the best possible chance to get close to Slade, and they'll doubt his dedication to the mission. To _ them. _

But he doesn't want Rose. He wants _ Slade. _ He doesn't want to hurt her by playing with her feelings, and he doesn't want to hurt Slade by breaking his daughter's heart. If Thomas finds out that he cares—that he's thinking of _anything_ other than the mission—that'll be the end.

When Thomas comes to check in on him later that week, Talon shows him everything he's found. The patrol routes. The pictures.

Thomas tells him he hasn't done a good enough job and cracks his head against the wall.

Lying on the ground with his head spinning, Talon realizes that he was always going to fail. Slade Wilson is not a man with secrets. He doesn't have a mistress or a gambling habit or anything like that. He has a daughter that he cares about and a dedication to his job that's second to none. There's nothing for Talon to find. He's been sent here to participate in a test he can't possibly pass.

He tells Thomas he'll do better as he licks his boots and wonders how much longer he has. Maybe one more visit. Maybe two.

He tries anyway. He tries desperately to be good enough, to earn the Syndicates trust back. He lives for the mission and nothing else. Dick Grayson is a mask he wears when he's out with Rose. Talon is _ who he is. _

When he's in his apartment—which is rare—he sits on the floor and stares up at the wall of pictures he's made.

Slade Wilson is all he has. Slade Wilson is his life.

He sees him more. Even if he turned her down, he's still close with Rose. He's invited over regularly. He eats dinner with them. Rose calls him her best friend, and Talon feels colder than he has in a long time.

He isn't supposed to feel guilt, but he does. He doesn't want to hurt her. She was a means to an end, and he knows it will hurt her when Thomas finally kills him.

He spirals downward. He gets thinner and paler. He sleeps less. Rose becomes concerned and tells him he should go to a hospital. She persists, even when he tries to shake her off. He's fine. He's had worse.

It won't matter anyway. He'll be dead before it catches up to him. He is simply prolonging the inevitable.

He isn't expecting Thomas to give him notice, but he does. He's waiting for him at the apartment when Talon gets back from dinner one evening, and doesn't even let him change back into his suit before he knocks him to the ground with a brutal backhand.

"Show me," he says, and Talon does. He shows him everything he has. The wall of photos. The books of information. The maps. The details of his life. Everything he has, he offers up to Thomas.

It isn't enough. It'll never be enough.

"The rest of the syndicate will come for a report later tonight," Thomas says. "I hope you have something better to show them then."

Thomas leaves without another word, and Talon curls on the floor, burying his face in his hands.

There's only one thing he can do. Only one option. He looks up at the wall of photographs, at the hundreds of images of Slade, he knows there's only one thing he could possibly do.

He needs something better to show them.

He puts on his suit and vanishes into the night. He knows the way through security because he's walked it a hundred times. He knows where to find Slade as he sleeps safely in his bed. He has the gear he needs, and it's almost laughably easy to cut his way through the window without triggering any alarms.

They aren't prepared for this. They're prepared for Ultraman to simply fly down and put an end to him, but not for someone to slip in and take him during the night.

Slade Wilson is a dangerous man, but asleep at night? He's easy to take. Talon presses a hand over his mouth as he jabs his neck with the sedative, Slade's right eye snapping open as he tries to defend himself.

The sedative is too quick for him. He doesn't manage to land the first blow, and that's the only one that'd possibly matter. His eyelid droops as he succumbs, and Talon lingers by his bedside, staring down at the man before him.

He wants him. He wants him so badly, but he can't.

He retrieves his eye-patch, carefully placing it on him like he normally wears it, and then gets to work.

He hefts Slade over his shoulder and leaves the way he came. It's harder with a large man draped over his shoulder, but he's been training his whole life for things like this. No one spots him as he slips back over the fence and into the city, heading for his apartment. When he gets there, he carefully lays Slade out on the floor, making sure he's comfortable before heading into the storage closet for supplies. He retrieves rope before second guessing himself, returning to his supplies to pull out padded handcuffs and a gag. He's careful as he secures Slade, propping him up against the wall before turning his attention to the photos.

He has to get rid of them. He can't let him see. It's bad enough-

He doesn't even make it to tearing things down before someone lands on the balcony. Talon freezes in place, turning his head to stare, and catches sight of glowing red eyes just outside his balcony.

They're early. They're not supposed to be here so soon. He thought he had more time.

He drops down to his knee, hanging his head to show submission as Ultraman, Superwoman, and Owlman filter in. They're all in full gear, which sets off alarm bells in his head, and his mouth feels dry as he watches Owlman stoop down to inspect his captive.

"He kidnapped the president," Superwoman says flatly. "He was supposed to be observing."

"This could still be useful for us," Thomas points out, and Talon feels a flutter of gratitude.

"Thomas," Ultraman says, his lips curling as he calls Thomas by his _ real _ name. He's not supposed to do that, but it's not as if Owlman can object too heavily. They all know who has the real power in the room. "I'm more concerned by _ this _ mess."

He gestures to the wall of photos, and Talon feels his face burn with shame under the cowl. They're not supposed to see it. It was his motivation. It wasn't - they weren't supposed to _ look. _ Thomas seeing it was wretched enough, but Superwoman? Ultraman? They hate him enough without knowing about it.

"Your pet has an obsession," Superwoman says, her eyes raking up and down the wall.

"He kept his focus on the mission," Thomas says. "That was what we wanted from him, and he's done it."

"He kidnapped the president."

There's a groan from the man in question as the sedative starts to wear off. Talon didn't give him enough to keep him out for long. He wanted to talk. He had things to say.

He won't get a chance to say them now. It's too late. Everything's already spiraling rapidly out of control.

"Why's he gagged?" Ultraman asks, bending down to tear the gag free. Slade grunts as the strap holding the gag in place snaps, panting as he tries to drag himself back to full awareness.

"Who cares?" Superwoman says with a shrug. "What are we doing with him?"

"That depends on how willing he is to play along," Thomas says. They're ignoring him, a state of affairs that Talon vastly prefers. He stays in his crouch, head hung just enough to sell the point while up just enough to let himself keep an eye on Slade.

Slade, who's taking the scene in.

Slade, who sees the _ wall. _ Slade, who recoils with obvious horror at the sight of it.

"He's not a fan of your work, Talon," Superwoman says with a laugh, and Slade _ looks _ at him and Talon wishes he could vanish then and there. He doesn't want that attention. He doesn't want him to look. The pictures were supposed to be gone. They aren't needed anymore. Talon drops his eyes, refusing to look at Slade's face. He doesn't want to see how disgusted he looks.

"I should have thought you bastards were being too quiet," Slade says under his breath. "Two months without the Syndicate flying in to threaten me? Unheard of."

Ultraman hits him in the head so hard that Slade slumps over, his breaths coming out as wheezes as he tries to push through the pain.

"Remember your place," Ultraman says coldly. "I could snap your neck as soon as blinking."

"If you were going to, you would have already," Slade says, and Talon wonders how it's possible for someone to be so stupid.

But Ultraman doesn't snap his neck. Instead he turns his attention back to the other Syndicate members in the room.

"So?" He says. "You're supposed to be the one with the plans, Owlman."

"That would depend," Thomas says, and Talon feels himself go stiff as Thomas turns to face him. "My Talon, what have you learned about him? What can we exploit?"

He doesn't want to speak. If he speaks, Slade will _ know. _ He'll recognize his voice and know who he is. He can't ignore Owlman's question, but he can't-

"He's shaking," Superwoman says with a laugh. "Oh dear, he has it worse than I thought."

"Talon," Thomas says, his voice hard. "Stand."

He does. He does because there's no possible question of what he'll do. Thomas is his master. He _ has _ to.

"Take off your cowl."

He's going to vomit. He doesn't want Slade to see him. But there's no other choice, so he reaches up, lifting the cowl away to expose his face.

He looks only at Thomas. Thomas is his master. He can't look at anyone else. Can't bring himself to look at Slade. He can see Thomas is unhappy from the set of his jaw, and knows he'll be hurt for not having answered already.

"What have you learned that we can exploit?" Thomas repeats.

"...Nothing," Talon says. "He isn't a man with vices. He loves his daughter. He keeps a strict schedule. He's dedicated to his work."

"We could use the daughter," Ultraman suggests. "If we take her-"

"She's too public," Superwoman objects. "Her disappearance will be noted."

"Who cares?" Ultraman says. "She's nothing. Even if they suspect, it's not the same as being able to prove anything."

They've forgotten him already. Talon stays planted in place, his face exposed, his eyes staring at the floor of his apartment. Slade knows. He knows what this is. He knows that Talon was a spy who got close to Rose only to get blackmail on him.

His mouth feels so _ dry. _

"What about him?" Superwoman says, and it takes Talon a moment to realize that she's talking about _ him. _

"He failed," Ultraman says. "Kill him."

"He got us the information we need," Thomas counters.

"I agree with Ultraman," Superwoman says, "but he can still be useful in other ways."

Her hand reaches out, her nails dragging down his back, and Talon shivers. He knows what she wants. He knows what being _ useful _ to Superwoman entails. He knows how badly it would hurt.

He doesn't want that, and he wants desperately to believe that Thomas wouldn't ever hand him over to her. He's supposed to be important to Thomas. He's supposed to be his _ Talon. _ He's dedicated. He's proved himself. Handing him over to Superwoman to be taken apart piece by piece isn't-

He tries not to think about it. He tries to believe that Thomas will protect him. 

"He's infatuated with his target," Superwoman says.

"Fine," Ultraman says. "We don't need to kill him, but let's make sure he knows where he belongs."

Talon isn't prepared for Ultraman to grab his forearm, pulling him towards him. He stumbles, panic flaring in his chest. He doesn't want this. He doesn't know exactly where it's going, but he knows that _ making sure he knows where he belongs _ can't mean anything good.

He doesn't get a say in what happens. He doesn't get any say at all as Ultraman manhandles him in front of Slade. He can't look down. If he looks down he's going to see Slade. He's going to see the reaction he has to what's happening in front of him.

He can't stand the idea of looking at Slade's face, so he tips his head back instead as Ultraman jerks his pants down.

"Please," Talon begs. It's the most he's said to Ultraman since he returned to the syndicate, and he knows he's made a mistake the moment the word leaves his mouth. Ultraman grabs the back of his neck, forcing him to bend over until he's folded nearly in half, his face only inches away from Slade's own.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to tune it out. Thomas clicks his tongue behind them but does nothing to stop it.

He's going to just let it happen.

It's not the first time Ultraman's fucked him. It's also not the first time he's gone in with almost no preparation. The only mercy he gets is when Ultraman grabs his hip hard enough to bruise, keeping him from falling over as he shoves in. Talon keeps his mouth closed, minimizing the noises he makes the way Thomas prefers.

Things tear. They always tear. It always hurts like he's being torn in half as Ultraman fucks into him. He tries to prop himself up, but the only place for his hands is the wall behind Slade.

His fingers brush against the side of Slade's head as he tries to find a place for his hands and he jerks away like he's been burned.

No. God no, he doesn't want this. He never wants it, because it hurts and because Ultraman always leaves him bloody, but he doesn't want this with Slade right _ there, _ and no matter how hard he tries he can't shut out Slade's reaction to it. He can't pretend he doesn't hear the little gasp Slade makes. He can't pretend that he doesn't see, out of the corner of his eye, the look of horror on Slade's face.

More than anything else, he doesn't want Slade to hear that a part of him enjoys it. He doesn't want him to see when Ultraman reaches around, wrapping Talon's cock in a crushing grip and jerking him to completion.

Talon's barely aware as he crumples to the ground when Ultraman releases him. There's blood on his thighs, but at least it's done.

Or he thinks it's done. Nothing can ever be half that easy, and Talon's stomach sinks as he hears the click of Superwoman's heels as she approaches them. She reaches down, grabbing the back of his neck as she hauls him upright, and then uses her other hand to pull his legs apart.

"Just in case there was any doubt, _ Mr. President," _ she says, slapping the inside of Talon's thigh. "He's ours."

She lets him see the sloppy mess Ultraman's left him, and Talon squeezes his eyes shut, tears rolling down his face as Superwoman releases him and he slumps to the floor.

"Let's be honest," Ultraman says as he cleans himself up. "He's useless to us. You broke him. He's had worse before without a word, and now he's crying."

"It isn't my fault he's broken," Thomas says. "It would have been better if we'd just killed him when he first left, rather than dragging it out."

He feels broken. He's supposed to be Owlman's Talon. He's supposed to be _ his. _ He's let himself get attached to something that isn't Owlman in a desperate attempt to feel _ something _ other than despair, and it's ruined him. He can't go back.

He's failed his mission. He's failed and maybe if he's lucky, Thomas will show him mercy and kill him himself rather than letting Ultraman do it.

He isn't willing to leave it to chance. He reaches out, catching the bottom of Thomas's cape and giving it a tug from his place on the floor.

"Please," he says. "Please do it yourself."

Thomas tilts his head down, his eyes hidden behind the reflective glass of his mask.

"Of course," he says. "You're my Talon."

"He did all this and you're still going to kill him?" Slade barks. It's the first time he's spoken since Talon took his mask off, and the sound of his voice makes Talon curl in on himself. "He's been following me for months and you're going to kill him because I don't have something you can blackmail me with?"

Ultraman backhands him and Slade lets out a wheeze.

Talon wants to die. If he dies, everything will stop hurting. If he dies right then, maybe he won't have to see Slade's face now that he knows. Maybe he won't have to see that look of disgust again.

There's a _ bang _ and something punches through the glass door of the balcony. It hits the wall and starts spilling smoke, and it takes all of Talon's energy to curl in on himself, trying to minimize the chance he'll be crushed in the ensuing melee.

Something red—probably heat vision—streaks above him, cutting a red-hot line through the wall. He hears other people entering the apartment, but he can't _ see, _ and there's no possible way he could join in the fight.

He feels a hand press to his shoulder and he flinches away instinctively.

"Stay down," a gruff voice says, and it takes him far too long to register that the voice is _ Slade, _ not Thomas.

Slade hurtles over him and is lost in the smoke.

He stays where he is, curled on the floor. He doesn't have the energy to get up. He doesn't have the _ willpower _ to get up even if he did. It's over. He has nothing left. Thomas will kill him. Maybe not even that. Maybe he'll let Superwoman do it as punishment for this disaster.

At some point he must have blacked out, because he comes to staring up at Slade's face as he hovers over him. He's on his back, and he thinks he's still in the apartment.

"There we go," he says. "Come on, up you get."

An arm winds around his back as Slade helps pull him to his feet, and Talon scrambles to... to what? To cover himself? He's already seen all there is to see, but when he looks his pants are already hiked back up. Nothing's showing. He's... together, he guesses. Still in his suit. Still without his cowl. He wants his cowl. It feels safe and comfortable.

"Dick!" Rose yells as she scrambles towards them. "Dad!"

Talon's legs nearly buckle under him as Rose pulls them into a hug, babbling about how they're _ safe _ and _ okay _ and _ everything is alright. _

Nothing is alright. He's been unmasked, his identity taken from him. Slade is there in the room with the half-destroyed wall of photos of him. He knows. He knows and he _ saw _ and he's still touching him. Still holding him up.

Someone touches him from the side and he jerks away, barely catching himself as he stumbles.

"Hold on," Slade says. "Go slow, he's been through a lot."

He runs.

Or at least he tries. He doesn't make it out of the apartment before he stumbles and falls, and he's swarmed by bodyguards he didn't even register as _ there. _ He's not in the right state of mind. He doesn't know where anything is. He doesn't know what happened. His head is spinning, and he heaves as his body tries to vomit up food he didn't actually eat.

How long has it been since he's eaten?

How long since he slept?

His body gives out and Talon falls into darkness.

He wakes with his wrist handcuffed to a bed. He's in a hospital, he thinks, but he can't be sure. He's never been in a hospital before, so he's only going off what he knows from TV. They've taken his suit and his gear, but he still has the lock pick hidden in his hair.

He doesn't even need it. They haven't taken into account how flexible he is, and he simply folds his thumbs in, narrowing his hand until he can slip right out of the cuffs.

He has to get out. He has to get away. He doesn't know how long he's been unconscious, but he knows it must have been a while, because he doesn't feel half as awful as he probably should.

He pulls the IV out of his arm, peeling the patches and monitors off of him and goes for the window. His legs hold his weight, even if he feels floaty and dazed. He must have been out for days, and he guesses it must be around late afternoon.

The window's locked, the glass bullet proof, but he bypasses the mechanism easily to get it open. He's on the fourth floor, but that's never stopped him before, and he slips outside, heading down to the ground.

This is normal. This is _ standard. _ He's never had to do this exact thing before, but he's had to do similar things. It's part of his training. Escaping. Finding out where he is. Adjusting.

They'll never find him.

But Thomas might.

No, Thomas _ will. _ Owlman will always find his Talons. They're a part of him, and there's no escaping that. How long does he have? Maybe a few hours. A few hours to do whatever he wants.

He gets his bearings and heads through the city. He doesn't have any shoes and only has the hospital gown on, so it's important he keep out of sight which makes it slower than he'd like.

He's on his way before he even makes a conscious decision. There's nowhere else he could possibly go. There's more security when he reaches the White House fence, but the tree he uses is still there, unguarded and unwatched. He isn't sure anyone else could make it, scurrying up the side and leaping from the tree to one inside the fence, but he can. He's done it so many times.

He finds his place in the tree outside Slade's bedroom and waits.

The sun dips and Thomas still doesn't find him. Maybe he's safe inside the fence. Maybe he's waiting. Maybe he's busy.

But he knows he'll find him eventually. These moments he has are stolen. They don't belong to him.

It's dark when Slade enters his bedroom. He looks tired as he says his goodnights, closing the door and turning towards the window.

He walks right up to it, staring up at the tree, right at where Talon's waiting. He freezes, unsure of how he could have been seen, but there's no question that he has when Slade unlatches the window, pulling it open and beckoning him down.

He obeys, because he _ always _ has.

"Dick," Slade says.

"You saw," Talon says right back.

"I guessed," he says. "Some of the photos were taken from there. It was a gamble if you'd be there."

Talon goes still. He doesn't know what to say or do. How long does he have? He thought it was hours, but _ that _ was hours ago. Surely Thomas must be on his way already.

He hopes for things he shouldn't have.

Hope doesn't do anything but burn.

He wants that burn. The burn that tells him he's _ alive, _ that he's not yet dead. He surges forward, grabbing the front of Slade's shirt as he leans up, dragging him into a kiss. Their teeth clack together as Talon desperately presses forward, eager for _ anything. _

He expects Slade to shove him away, but instead he plants his hands on his hips.

"Dick," he says, and the growl in his voice goes right to Talon's cock.

Dick. Who he's _ supposed _ to be. Who he was, before he was Talon.

It doesn't even feel like his name.

"I want you," Talon says. _ "Please." _

He wants to feel alive before he dies. He hasn't felt _ alive _ in so long that he can't even remember.

"You've been through a lot," Slade says, his hands still planted on Talon's hips. "Now probably isn't-"

_ "Please." _

Slade growls and uses those arms of his to lift Talon from the ground like he weighs nothing at all. He reacts instinctively, wrapping his legs around Slade's waist as Slade shifts his grip, wrapping his arms around his back to hold Talon's weight.

"Fuck it," Slade says. "We'll sort it out in the morning."

Slade kisses _ him _ and Talon sees stars. It's everything he's wanted for months. Not just having Slade, but Slade _ wanting _ him. He could have forced him any time and didn't because the _ wanting _ mattered just as much.

Slade turns, carrying him to the bed, and drops him onto his back. He's being almost painfully gentle in Talon's opinion, leaning down to nip at his neck and leave a trail of marks down to his collarbone.

_ "Please," _ Talon keens. He wants him. He wants him so badly. He's already hard, the dirty hospital gown doing nothing to hide it.

Slade seems to misunderstand. He pulls the gown aside, bending down to take the head of Talon's cock into his mouth and Talon practically _ screams _ at the stimulation. It's the first time for him, and it's _ far _ too overwhelming for him as his entire body twitches.

Slade's fingers drag down his thighs and Talon groans, his entire body lifting as his back arches. He doesn't think his mouth could form actual words even if he wanted to. It's too much too fast. In all his times with Thomas, he _ never _ did anything like this. He never gave Talon that sort of attention.

"Don't think I have the patience to drag this out all night," Slade says as he releases Talon's cock with a pop. "You still with me?"

Talon nods enthusiastically. He's still there. He's just a little out of his mind from the feeling of it. From the fact that it's real.

He's getting choked up. He doesn't mean to. He doesn't want to ruin the moment. He's just overwhelmed.

"Hey, hey," Slade says quietly, dragging his hand along Talon's side as he sits up. "Stay with me here Dick. We can always do this later."

"We don't - we don't have time," Talon croaks. "He'll come-"

"He's not coming," Slade says. "We already pulled the tracker out of you, and we've got things handled, alright? You're safe."

He doesn't believe it. Not really. But he wants to. He distracts himself by leaning down, trying to kiss Slade again, and Slade offers a small laugh.

"I mean it," he says. "You're safe, Dick."

Every time Slade says his name it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Please fuck me," Talon says. "Please."

"Not on the menu," Slade says with another laugh. Every time he laughs it _ does things _ to Talon. "Come here."

He pulls Talon closer, and Talon knows he'll do anything Slade asks of him in that moment.

He watches in rapt attention as Slade undresses, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is heavily muscled and littered with scars, and Talon tries to match the pace as he peels off his hospital gown.

But it's really just one piece and then he's naked, but the look Slade's giving him makes his stomach flip.

He wants him. He wants him so badly.

He understands why Slade said fucking him _ wasn't on the menu _ when he slides his underwear off, and Talon's brain skips for a moment as he tries to process what he's looking at. Slade only laughs, shifting up to straddle Talon's thighs as he looks down at him.

"You know what to do?"

He doesn't. He has no idea what he's supposed to do, but he can imagine. He can make do. His hands are strong and his nails are already cut short without his gloves, and he gives the task all his focus as he drags his fingers across Slade's cunt, feeling the wetness there.

Wet. He's wet because of him. Because they kissed. Because of what they're doing.

"Slade," Talon gasps, his brain catching again at the very _ idea _ of it. At having the thing he thought he'd never get to have.

"Don't be a tease," Slade says. "Get to it."

Talon presses two fingers in, feeling the wetness there. It's a different experience, but then so is being with Slade. He _ reacts _ to the things Talon does, and he can read how good or bad he's doing on Slade's face. He curls his fingers, watching as Slade's entire body tenses, and Talon feels himself get that much harder in response.

"Keep going," Slade says. "You're not half bad at this."

What he's missing in experience he makes up for with enthusiasm. He adds a third finger, pumping them in and out as he curls them, finding just the right places to touch. Certain places make Slade's entire body tense when he touches them, and he aims for those places most of all. Within a few minutes, Slade's panting heavily as he leans against him, his arm wrapped around Talon's shoulders.

"Stop," he says, and Talon stops immediately, because that's the one thing he's good at: taking orders. So he stops, staring up at Slade, desperate for a new order. He needs to know what to do. He needs to be _ told. _

His mouth is watering. He needs it so goddamn bad.

"You wanted this for a while, didn't you?" Slade says, and Talon nods enthusiastically. "Tell me who you're loyal to now."

He knows the answer Slade wants, and he doesn't hesitate to give it to him.

Thomas has thrown him away and Slade has picked him up.

He knows where his loyalties lie.

"You," Dick says. "To you."

Slade leans down to kiss him again, reaching back to take Dick's cock in his hand, lining things up.

"Just like this," Slade says as he settles down, pressing the head of Dick's cock against his entrance before pressing down.

He slides down smoothly with a groan, and Dick's breath catches. It feels _ good. _ Hot and went and _ tight, _ and he doesn't think he's ever wanted anything more.

And then Slade clenches down on him and he's not even sure if he has enough brain cells left to be capable of wanting at all.

"Just like that," Slade says as he rocks his hips. "Going to ride you 'till you can't walk."

Dick doesn't tell him that he doesn't think he's capable of walking right then anyway. He does what he's told, responding to every little bit of praise like it might be his last. He rocks upwards as Slade grinds down, watching the way his stomach flutters and clenches in response.

"Here," Slade says, taking Dick's hand off his thigh and guiding it over. "Right there."

Dick trails his thumb ass directed, finding just the right place to rub with the flat of his thumb. He knows he's found the right place when Slade shudders, clenching down on him, and Dick's voice catches in his throat.

He knows what he has to do. He has to ask. The answer will probably be _ no, _ but he tries to ask anyway.

"Please, maste-"

He's cut off by a finger pressing to his lips as Slade leans over him.

"No," he says. "I'm not your master. Try again."

Dick wracks his brain for the answer. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say, and it's hard to think at all with Slade still riding his cock like he's going to goddamn _ die _ if he doesn't.

"Mr. Pres-"

"You can do better."

He can't. He _ can't _ do better. It's too much, and he feels tears prickle in the corner of his eyes as he pants, trying to match the absolutely punishing pace while _ also _ letting his brain think.

"Try," Slade says, slowing the pace.

He tries. He tries because he wants Slade to be happy with him.

"Please, Slade," he says because it's the only possible thing he can even think of.

"Good," Slade says, and he picks up the pace.

"Please - Please let me -" He can't finish it. He doesn't think he'll be able to hold back even if Slade says no. 

"Do it," Slade says.

He does it. He does it because Slade _ told _ him too, because he said he could. He wants nothing more than to do what he wants, and he groans as he snaps his hips up, letting himself cum as his eyes squeeze shut.

"Good," Slade says above him, and Dick feels him pick up his pace as he chases his own orgasm.

He finishes quickly enough, clenching down on Dick hard enough to _ hurt, _ and Dick tilts his head back, groaning desperately as he digs his fingers into Slade's thighs.

Slade bends down, stooping over him as he pants heavily, his body trembling as he slowly relaxes.

"You're not bad at this," Slade says with a halfhearted laugh. "Going to take a bit to get you up to my standards, though."

Dick feels something flutter in him, and he lets his eyes open fully, staring up at Slade's face as he slips off him, flopping down on the bed.

"Can I stay?" Someone says, and it takes Dick a second to realize that it's him. _ He _ said that. He said it because he wants it. He wants to stay.

He's never been allowed to want anymore.

Slade wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him up against him, and Dick presses against him desperately.

It feels different. It's not like it was with Thomas, because Slade is looking at him and Thomas almost never did. Thomas didn't want affection when they were finished. When they were done, he wanted Dick _ out _ so he could have his privacy. Slade's as far from Thomas as it's possible to be, and that only makes it better.

Thomas threw him away. Maybe Slade won't.

"Of course," Slade says, his fingers scraping along Dick's spine and making him shiver. "Wouldn't have let you in if that wasn't the plan. We'll get things figured out in the morning, but you'll be staying right here with me."

He'll be staying. He'll be staying with _ him. _ Dick feels his heart flutter, his fingers digging into the sheets as he curls against Slade, desperate for more contact.

Things are going to be different. He's not a part of the syndicate anymore.

Now he's Slade's.

He's _ Slade's _ Talon, and that makes all the difference in the world.


End file.
